The Flip Side
by spidermonkey1918
Summary: One shot. A story about what might have happened if Lenny had the opposite type of amnesia, that is, retrospective. He can't remember anything before the accident, but this time he can make new memories. Will he travel the same path?


**Hope you enjoy!**

"Do you recognise this woman Mr Shelby?"

Lenny stared at the bubbly young brunette and frowned. She did look familiar. Where had he seen her before?

"She looks familiar. I can't quite place her, though."

"What is the last thing you remember before waking up in this hospital room?"

"I was at a bar, celebrating my new job with some friends. I think that's where I recognise that woman from. Yeah, that's right, she's a friend of a friend. We were introduced that night. Did something happen to her?"

"She was involved in the same accident as you, but unfortunately after she was raped, she was murdered." A sort of electric jolt shot through Lenny at the mention of the word 'murder.' How had he been involved in a rape and murder?

"Mr Shelby, I'd like to introduce you to Dr Lewis. He works with patients such as yourself and will help you adjust to your new condition."

Dr Lewis was a tall, tired looking man. He carried with him several photo albums and a newspaper.

"Mr Shelby, I'm going to show you a few photos and this newspaper. Often we find that patients who suffer memory loss have a difficult time believing the truth. Firstly, I would like to establish just how far back your amnesia extends."

Dr Lewis handed Lenny a photograph. He recognised that to be the night he met the brunette. He was standing next to an old college friend, and next to her was the woman who was murdered.

"I remember this. That was the night I was at the bar with my friends celebrating. I had only just met that woman before the photo was taken." The doctor noted something on his clipboard and handed Lenny another photo.

"I don't remember this. It looks like a place I used to go when I was younger. I don't understand why this woman is with me. Did I know her?"

"Mr Shelby, there's no easy way to say this: the woman that was murdered two nights ago was your wife."

"Wife?!" Dr Lewis gave him a look of pity and smiled gently.

"I'm going to come back tomorrow to continue this, it is important to do things gradually with amnesia. If you want, you can look at the rest of this photo album. Be aware that it will be confusing and frustrating for you. There is always the chance that your memories will come back, though."

As Lenny flipped through the album, which seemed to be telling his future, rather than his past, he remembered the first moment he woke up after the accident.

_Leonard's eyes opened as he became aware of the splitting headache he was sporting. Looking around, he realised he was in a hospital room. Having no idea why or how he got there, he sat up slowly. In fact, he couldn't remember much at all about what he had been doing. _

_A tall man wearing a white coat entered the room, scanning through a file as he came._

"_Ah, you're awake. My name is Dr Shaw. How are you feeling?"_

"_Like I've been run over by a friggen' truck. Why...why exactly am I here?"_

"_Can you tell me your name?"_

"_Leonard Shelby."_

"_And what is the last thing you remember Mr Shelby?"_

"_Well, I...I was at a bar, with some friends. Was I in an accident?" The doctor looked at him concerned, but unsurprised._

"_Yes, you were in an accident of sorts. Mr Shelby, what month and year is it?"_

"_July, 1991. Is there something wrong?"_

After two weeks of observation and 'memory therapy' with Dr Lewis, Lenny was informed that he would be allowed to go home. The problem was, he didn't know where 'home' was these days. After voicing his concern, he was told that a district nurse would be taking him home and checking in on him.

They pulled up to a neat, white house with a wide porch. Lenny looked around at the place he now called 'home.' Nothing seemed recognizable, and yet he could see himself living comfortably in this modest home.

Inside, he recognized several of his possessions – awards he had won in college, pictures of his parents. In the corner of the living room sat a huge wooden bookcase, the bottom shelf full of photo albums. One of them read 'Our Wedding.' Sinking into a nearby armchair, Lenny braced himself.

He knew from working with Dr Lewis that it could be frustrating and even upsetting looking at these photos – it was like you were forcing yourself to remember events that you didn't even know had happened.

As he flipped through the pages, he started to recognise the park in which they were taken. This was one of his favourite places to go running in the mornings. Or at least, it was. Nothing else seemed to be clear, however, so he sat the album on a coffee table and ventured further into the house.

The bedroom was small but comfortable. There were still clothes scattered about the room and the bed was unmade. The bathroom door was shut and sealed; it was apparent that nobody was to be allowed in there. Lenny remembered the police telling him that the murder took place in there, as did his accident. Another jolt soared through him at this thought.

Dying to get out of the clothes he was wearing, he went to the closet to find some clean clothes. He noticed that half of the closet belonged to his wife. The smell of the clothes seemed familiar to him. Lenny became inspired: he was going to find out who his unknown wife was and why she was no longer here.

Looking around the bedroom again, a tattered, dog-eared book resting on a bedside table caught his eye. Lenny picked it up and his breath caught. Out of nowhere, almost like a vision, a memory came flooding back.

_His wife was sitting up in bed, the tattered old book in her hand. Lenny stood at the closet, pulling out a shirt to go to work._

"_Are you still reading that stupid book?"_

"_It's not stupid, I love it. I could read it again and again."_

"_I know you could. Alright, I have to go. Put that book down and do something."_

"_Mhmm. Later." Lenny rolled his eyes as he kissed the top of her head. _

As suddenly as it had come, the vision-like sensation was gone. Encouraged by this sudden discovery, Lenny searched the rest of the house. He came across the answering machine on the kitchen bench. The screen showed there was one new message. Excited and nervous, Lenny hit 'play.'

"_Hi, honey. Just letting you know I'll bring home some Chinese take-out tonight, I don't feel like cooking. Love you."_

With tears in his eyes, Lenny wondered how he could have forgotten her voice. After hearing the message, he felt as though he had known her forever and that she could have walked through the front door at any moment.

Memories came flooding back; the sound of her laugh, the touch of her skin. Lenny didn't expect that so much would come back at once, but Dr Lewis had explained that for some people, it was like listening to the beginning of a familiar song – once the lyrics begin, you can recall the whole thing.

Feeling brave, Lenny decided that perhaps he would be able to have a look at the scene of the crime: the bathroom.

After much effort, the door was pried open and Lenny stood in the doorway. The shower curtain lay torn and crumpled on the blood-stained floor. The mirror on the wall was smashed into a million pieces, all which scattered the floor and sink.

Lenny half expected a horrible memory to come rushing back to him, but there was nothing. It was like watching a murder scene off a TV show – it meant nothing to him. Perhaps this was a good thing, he thought. This way, the memories he had of his wife won't be tainted by her vicious murder. _Some memories are best forgotten._

Something stirred inside him. How could anyone kill someone so beautiful? It wasn't right. She deserved justice. She was going to get it.

With the picture of his bathroom in his mind and a photo of his wife tucked inside his coat, Lenny sped down the highway, repeating one name over and over in his mind.

_Lenny pulled up to the police station, determined to get some answers. He asked for the detective who was supposed to be solving his wife's murder and was led to a desk piled high with papers. _

"_Mr Shelby, I'm glad you're here. I have something for you."Lenny was handed a plastic bag with a diamond ring in it. He recognised his grandmother's ring and knew this now belonged to his wife. Feeling empowered, he looked straight into the detective's eyes._

"_I was wondering how the case was going. Do you have any suspects?"_

"_Well, usually I wouldn't be at liberty to tell you any details regarding the case, but this has been particularly traumatic for you. We have a prime suspect, yes. We have his name, but we have yet to locate him. Is there anything else?"_

"_Tell me his name."_

"_Mr Shelby, I don't think I can do that."Lenny balled his fists but remained calm._

"_Please. This person killed my wife." The detective looked at him thoughtfully before _

_answering._

"_John Granger." Without another word, Lenny stood up and left the office, leaving the detective open mouthed and staring after him._

The familiar jolt of electricity sizzled throughout his body.

"Watch out, Granger. I'm coming."


End file.
